The Great Song Dynasty: You were put in charge of teaching, and you produced a whole bunch of prime

Early in the morning, before the fog in Bianjing City had completely dissipated, the back gate of Jingshi Academy was suddenly kicked open with a loud bang.

"Something's happened! The sky has fallen!"

Su Shi, his hair ornament askew and his robes damp with dew, staggered into the backyard.

He clutched a transcribed copy of the official gazette tightly in his hand, his face even more unpleasant than Xiao Temo, who had swallowed a fly the night before.

On a rattan chair in the courtyard, Jiang Lin was slowly picking up a crystal-clear soup dumpling.

"What's the panic?"

Jiang Lin gently bit into the noodle, sipped the piping hot and delicious broth, and contentedly squinted his eyes. "If the sky falls, the tall ones will hold it up. Are you a tall one?"

"Headmaster! The situation is dire, how can you still eat?"

Su Shi slammed the official gazette on the stone table, making the vinegar dish rattle. "Three censors from the Censorate have jointly submitted a memorial! Impeaching you for 'manufacturing a demonic weapon, coveting the imperial throne, and plotting treason!'"

"Putting that label on someone will get you killed!"

Jiang Lin put down his chopsticks and glanced at the official gazette.

The handwriting is messy, clearly indicating that Su Shi hurriedly copied it from an acquaintance.

The content was even more insidious—accusing Fanlou's telescope of being able to capture people's souls, and even implying that Jiang Lin wanted to use it to spy on the emperor's whereabouts and to perform witchcraft.

Overnight, Jiang Lin went from a rising star in the Song Dynasty to a wicked Taoist priest hated by everyone.

"That's it?" Jiang Lin wiped his mouth, his tone as indifferent as if he were asking about the weather today.

"Isn't that enough?!" Su Shi paced anxiously, sweat dripping down his nose. "That's the Censorate!"

"This place, known for its 'rumored reporting,' can ruin people without any evidence! Headmaster, should we quickly submit a petition to defend ourselves, or... or perhaps leave to lay low for a while?"

"Avoiding the limelight?"

Jiang Lin chuckled and poured himself another cup of tea. "Zizhan, you're still too young and your vision is too limited."

He stood up, walked over to Su Shi, and helped the future literary giant straighten his crooked collar.

"In officialdom, being criticized is not terrible; what's terrible is being ignored. The more fiercely those old fogies in the Censorate criticize us, the more important our telescope is."

Jiang Lin pointed outside the door, a playful smile curving his lips. "Do you know what this is called? In the Song Dynasty, it's called 'public opinion,' but in my hometown, it's called 'top influencer.'"

Su Shi looked bewildered, his large eyes filled with confusion: "Top... influencer?"

"Come on, I'll take you somewhere." Jiang Lin grabbed a folding fan and strode out. "Let me show you what true—dimensional reduction attack—is all about."

……

Half an hour later, at Deyuelou, the largest teahouse in Bianjing.

The lobby on the first floor was bustling with noise. Tea drinkers were cracking melon seeds and talking animatedly, as lively as during the Chinese New Year.

Jiang Lin and Su Shi changed into inconspicuous casual clothes and huddled in a corner "eating melon seeds".

In the center of the hall, an old scholar with a goatee stood on a table, waving a folding fan and speaking with great passion.

"Gentlemen! That brat Jiang Lin is a monster! I've heard that his so-called 'telescope' is made from ground-up human bones! Just one glance and your soul will be sucked away!"

The old scholar's eyes widened, and he lowered his voice, feigning mystery: "Why did that Liao envoy scream last night? It was because his yang energy was drained! If such a monster were to infiltrate the common people, wouldn't our Great Song Dynasty become a ghost town?"

"hiss--"

The surrounding tea drinkers gasped, their faces filled with fear and curiosity.

"That's terrifying!"

"I knew it! Why was there such a chilling wind blowing from the top of Fanlou?"

"Jiang Lin deserves to die! Why hasn't the imperial court arrested him yet?"

Su Shi's knuckles turned white as he listened, and he gripped the teacup in his hand so tightly that it made a cracking sound.

"Nonsense! Utter nonsense!" Su Shi gritted his teeth, about to rush forward to argue, "That's the investigation of things to acquire knowledge! It's optics! These ignorant masses... I'll tear their mouths apart!"

A hand landed firmly on his shoulder.

Jiang Lin pressed him back into his seat, his expression as calm as if he were watching a monkey show.

"Sit down, stop making a scene."

"Headmaster! He slandered you!"

"He's not slandering me, he's helping me get a DG." Jiang Lin peeled a peanut and popped it into his mouth.

"Zizhan, remember this: never try to persuade a fool with reason. If you want to win, you have to use stories they can understand to 'fool' them."

Su Shi was stunned: "A hoax?"

"Let's go, we've had enough of the show." Jiang Lin patted the peanut shells off his hands, his eyes gradually turning cold. "Since they like to hear stories, then we'll tell the Song Dynasty a story better than ever before."

……

Back at Jingshi Academy, Jiang Lin led Su Shi straight into a locked room. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, a strong scent of ink wafted out.

Su Shi covered his nose and followed him in, then froze on the spot.

The secret chamber contained no gold or silver treasures, only several enormous wooden shelves. The shelves were filled with countless tiny squares—were they… clay movable type? No, they were copper movable type!

In the center of the room, several craftsmen were adjusting a strangely shaped machine. Next to it was a stack of freshly printed papers, exuding the smell of fresh ink.

"This...this is..." Su Shi picked up a piece of paper at random. The paper was rough but tough, with neat layout and a combination of pictures and text.

The masthead prominently displays four large, bold characters: "Da Song Ri Bao" (Great Song Daily).

"Is this your counterattack?" Su Shi was somewhat disappointed. "Headmaster, although movable type printing is ingenious, I'm afraid that distributing leaflets won't silence the public."

"Moreover... this article is written too bluntly, with absolutely no literary flair whatsoever."

Jiang Lin walked to the desk, picked up a specially made charcoal pencil, and twirled it between his fingertips.

"Who said I was going to write an article?" Jiang Lin handed the charcoal pencil to Su Shi. "Zizhan, I don't deny that your literary talent is unparalleled. But you don't understand people's hearts."

He drew a frame on the paper, which was the most prominent front page headline position in the newspaper.

"From today onward, forget your classical Chinese phrases, forget your elaborate structure."

Jiang Lin's voice carried a hint of seduction, like a devil tempting mortals to fall, "I will teach you a unique skill called—'Shocking Body'."

Su Shi, holding his pen, was at a loss: "What...what is 'shocking style'?"

"Take yesterday's incident for example," Jiang Lin tapped the table, "If you were writing about it, what title would you use?"

Su Shi pondered for a moment, then picked up his brush to write: "The Liao envoy spied on the palace and was punished by Heaven; a miracle appeared at Fanlou and shocked the barbarians."

"Too dry, no one will read it." Jiang Lin crossed it out without hesitation. "Ordinary people don't care about divine retribution or barbarians; they only care about the lowlifes and palace secrets."

"Then... how should I write it?"

Jiang Lin leaned close to Su Shi's ear and whispered a string of words.

Su Shi's eyes widened, and the charcoal pencil in his hand trembled, as if he had heard some treasonous heavenly scripture.

"Write it down," Jiang Lin urged.

Su Shi swallowed hard, and with trembling hands, wrote the line on the paper:

Shocking! A burly man from the North screamed in the dead of night, all because he glanced at the Emperor of the Song Dynasty…

After writing the last character, Su Shi felt that the Confucian classics he had studied for twenty years had shattered into dust at this moment, and could not be pieced back together.

"Brilliant!" Jiang Lin looked at the ellipsis and nodded in satisfaction. "This suspense, this tension—this is exactly what the people of the Song Dynasty love to watch!"

He then pointed to the side panel: "Let's add another one—'If you don't buy this pipe, your neighbor might be watching you take a shower!'"

"puff--"

Su Shi almost spat out a mouthful of blood.

"Mountain... Headmaster..." Su Shi's face was pale, his eyes unfocused, as if he had just experienced a soul-crushing ordeal. "Refinement... Do we still want our refinement?"

As Jiang Lin looked out the window at the gradually darkening sky, he seemed to see countless copper coins surging in like a tide.

He turned around, patted the future literary giant on the cheek, and smiled coldly and arrogantly.

"Can refinement put food on the table? Can it shield you from the spittle of the Censorate?"

Jiang Lin grabbed the still-wet sample copy and slammed it onto Su Shi's chest.

"Write it! Print ten thousand copies tonight, and tomorrow morning, I want everyone in Bianjing to have this newspaper in their hands!"

"I'll show those old fogies what it means to kill with public opinion!"